There are some things we do because we convince ourselves it would be better for everyone involved. We tell ourselves that it's the right thing to do, the altruistic thing to do. It's far easier than telling ourselves the truth.

Someone once told me that when you give birth to a daughter, you've just met the person whose hand you'll be holding the day you die.

You make yourself strong because it's expected of you. You become confident because someone beside you is unsure. You turn into the person others need you to be.

Even though it hurt, there are kinds of pain you couldn't speak out loud.

Clearly God was in some kind of mood on my birthday.

Or in other words, it's the substance you've got when you start that determines the outcome.

You can't be real," Delilah murmurs. "Says who?" I ask. "Did you really think that a story exists only when you're reading it?